Colorblind
by aghamora
Summary: "All that matters is that I am Quinn, and he is Finn, and no matter what anyone has ever said, I love him." - - Finn/Quinn, oneshot.


Is it wrong that I'm still in love with him?

Yes, it is. I've stolen his ability to trust, shattered his innocence, taken from him the very thing I most love about him. Of _course_ I shouldn't still be in love with him.

Well, _maybe_ it's not terribly wrong. There's no reason _he_ should be in love with _me_. He has never hurt me.

It makes some sense, though, if I think about it long enough.

As I run out to my car on the last day of school, I spot Finn glancing around expectantly, probably waiting for Rachel to leave school so they can leave together, and kiss, and hug, and do everything he used to do with me. The thought makes my blood boil, and I find this odd, because I'm not usually the jealous type.

It's raining in June. The air is steamy and the skies are gray. I think about how my world's been gray since I destroyed our relationship, a relationship that was partially built on a foundation of lies and deceit, yet still meant the world to me. It still _means_ the world to me, even though it shouldn't.

I feel like I've been colorblind since he told me he's done with me. Beth…my little baby Beth…she was a fleeting hint of color amongst a world of endless black and white. But she was here and gone all too soon, and now I don't see much of a reason to try to find color again. I know I have Puck, but he's just that: _Puck_. He's unfaithful and he's crude and he's a womanizer, and even if he loves me, his love just can't heal the pain I've gone through.

I can't give Finn a passing glance without feeling guilty, so I don't. I walk by him wordlessly. I walk through puddles and watch silently as my feet create sudden ripples across the fallen rain. _One little movement_ can cause such a disruption across such a peaceful and calm and _perfect_ world. _One little mistake, one little night_, can destroy everything you've ever had and then some you don't have yet.

I get in my car, only relatively aware of how I'm dripping wet, and turn the key to start the vehicle. It makes a sound of effort; it really tries, but it stops only moments later. I try again as I jam the key in more forcefully and turn it more frantically, but with only the same result.

I get out, because, for some reason, I know it's not going to work. I'd ask Puck for a ride home, but he's already gone by now. I've been left behind.

I kick the automobile in frustration, and then I start to cry. I don't know why. I guess it's my hormones, but I'm pretty sure that it's also because of the fact that I've always been the person leaving people behind, but now, I'm the one whose always being left behind.

What a cruel irony.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I don't have to turn my head to know its Finn. But I glance over at him anyway, before I can stop myself. His dark hair is dripping and his clothing will take hours to dry. His face is crumpled into a mixture of concern and hesitance, because we both remember what I've done to him, and are both uncertain of why _he's_ asking me if _I'm_ all right.

"No," I reply. Of course I'm not okay. And maybe he's not aware of it, but he's the only person who can ever make it _okay _again. Since that won't happen, why bother pretending?

"Why're you crying?"

"I don't know," my voice is high-pitched and shaking. My body is trembling. And I do sort of know why. I think he knows that, too, but he doesn't ask any more questions.

"Your car won't start?" His eyes look over the car, and then over me once he's finished analyzing the vehicle. I shake my head, before leaning heavily against the car and running my hands over my face. I look so pathetic that even _Finn_ probably can't help but pity me, "Do you want a lift home?"

I suck in an unsteady breath at his offer, and he looks just as unsure, because we both know that it's better if I refuse. So I do.

"Rachel wouldn't like that," I smile halfheartedly when he presses his mouth into a thin, thoughtful line, as he knows I'm right but doesn't want to admit it to himself.

I know that Rachel's probably the dominating force in their relationship. I was the dominating force back when we were together. Finn doesn't like control.

"But-" Suddenly, possessed with some strange desire, I find myself moving closer to him, and pulling him into a desperate kiss that I'm not sure he totally doesn't want. I hold onto him tightly, and he can't really pull away, but he's not trying anyway, so I don't loosen my grip. I cherish the familiar feeling of his lips on mine, of his hot breath on my cheek, as there's no guarantee that I'll ever feel this again.

No tongue is used; it's not really _that_ close to romantic, but once I pull away, I feel much better. It had lasted for at least a minute, and we both gasp for breath as we stand there, in the hot, humid June rain, staring at each other in sheer bewilderment.

The logical part of me wants to regret the kiss, but I don't.

We both stumble for words. I can't tell if he felt anything like the spark we used to have when we kissed, but I know I did, so maybe that's all that matters anymore. All that matters is that I'm still in love with him, and even though he'll tell everyone otherwise, Rachel is his rebound girl and no matter how hard he tries, he's not going to forget me. All that matters is that I think he felt something too.

All that matters is that I am Quinn, and he is Finn, and no matter what anyone has ever said, _I love him_.

For a moment, I _think_ I've seen color. I _think_ I see it in his astonished face, in his conflicted eyes. I think I see color, but _thinking_ and _knowing_ are two different things. At this point, guessing isn't an option, so I suppose I'll never quite know if I see something other than gray.

"H-have a good summer, Finn," I give him a tiny grin, one that almost asks him to say something, yet, at the same time, asks him to keep quiet and preserve the moment, to not spoil the minute with unnecessary words.

I walk away from him, and call Puck for a ride home. I do chance one quick look back as I leave the parking lot, and Finn is still standing there, stunned, with his back turned to me. Maybe I try to see him again because I yearn to see color once more, but, nevertheless, I don't see anything.

We can never be in love the way we were before. We can never care about each other with such a fierce, unfailing passion the way we did before. Even though I know these two painful facts, something inside me can't wait to see him again, to catch a brief glimpse of a hue other than dull gray.

While I wait, I walk in the puddles on purpose, causing instant chaos to erupt in those tiny, tranquil worlds of water that were perfectly fine before one little accident happened and they were thrown into disorder, into territory that they didn't know how to navigate, situations they didn't know how to deal with, pain they couldn't stomach. The ripples change the puddles, make them into something totally different, and make it so they can never go back to being like they were before.

No matter how hard they try, the unpredictability of a changed existence will never go away. They're no longer exactly sure of what the future holds for them. But, is this really a bad thing? Is it so terrible to be uncertain of what tomorrow holds instead of going from day to day, knowing precisely what will happen?

No, I decide. It isn't. Finn and I can never be in love like we used to, but there's nothing stopping us from being in love like we _never have before_. Perhaps I was hallucinating or wanting it so much that I imagined it, but minutes ago, when I kissed Finn, I think I saw color. There had to be something there, I tell myself, for me to have been able to see color. And he must have felt it, too. Whatever that thing was that we had, the thing that made me tingle whenever I saw him, the thing that made my heart swell whenever he sang to me...I don't think it's gone.

I think he knows that too.


End file.
